The Little Things (Are What Kill)
by The Lady Arturia
Summary: Draco and Harry each find themselves in situations they would never have been in, if not for some very bad choices. And if they followed all of those choices back to the very beginning, they would realise that the very first one was something so inconspicuous and harmless that no one would've expected things to turn out the way they did. A reverse-chronological Drarry.


**A/n: This is written for Hogwarts Assignment #10.**

 **All prompts are at the bottom.**

 **Please note that this is an AU and there will be things portrayed differently to that of canon. This is also a reverse-chronological story, which means events happen in reverse (apologies if this a spoiler; it has been brought to my notice that it got confusing).**

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 **This is for Bex (DobbyRocksSocks).**

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 **The Little Things (Are What Kill)**

* * *

After everything Harry had been through in the past, Sirius' death was the final straw. And to think that his Godfather had only died because of his distorted hero complex and subconscious need to prove a point only worsened his guilt.

"I killed him," he muttered to Ron one evening after Quidditch practice. "I killed Sirius."

"That's rubbish, mate," Ron said, slapping him on the back. "Bellatrix Lestrange killed him, and you know it! I won't let you take the blame for that vile witch's actions."

"Yeah, but she wouldn't have killed him if not for me," Harry insisted, rising to his feet with a sigh. "If I'd just listened and not walked straight into Voldemort's trap…"

"But you did," Ron said, and Harry frowned at him. The redhead smiled back. "And you did so knowing it was a trap, simply because you wanted to make sure what happened with my dad didn't happen again. And all of us followed you because we agreed with your decision, Harry. And we would do it all over again, if we had to."

Harry looked away, eyes scanning the Pitch. "I wouldn't."

"Mate—"

"I'll see you in the common room," Harry interrupted Ron as he spotted the person he was looking for and jogged away.

Coming to stand before the small group of Slytherins, he waited until they paused their conversation to look at him. Ignoring the others, his gaze fixed on Malfoy, Harry said, "Can I talk to you?"

"No, you can't," Goyle said, shoving Harry's shoulder with a laugh, but Harry continued to hold the blond's gaze.

"Make it quick, Potter," Malfoy said, looking disinterested.

Harry eyed the blokes watching them before saying, "I'd prefer if we did this in private." When the others laughed and poked fun at him, he looked Malfoy dead in the eye and said, "For your sake."

The blond hesitated briefly before nodding. Harry turned and walked behind the stands as Malfoy gave his friends a half-hearted explanation before following after Harry.

"What?" he demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at Harry.

"You were at the Ministry that night." When malfoy pretended like he didn't know what Harry was talking about, he said, "The day Sirius died and Voldemort appeared. You were there."

Malfoy flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name but nodded nonetheless. "And I'll never stop regretting it."

Harry took a step forward. "Why?"

"What?"

"Why were you there?"

Malfoy's frown deepened. "Why were _you_ there?"

"To save Sirius!" Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Even when you knew it was a trap?" Malfoy asked, his voice low.

"I didn't know!"

"Yes, you did!" Malfoy spat.

Harry bared his teeth, grabbing Malfoy by the arm and pulling him close. "And how did _you_ know that?"

Malfoy faltered, the hesitation clear in his eyes, and Harry tightened his grip until the other winced in pain. "I… overheard the Dark Lord telling my father about it."

"You're lying," Harry said. "I know you saw it just like I did!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Malfoy insisted, shaking Harry's hand off.

"Stop lying to me," Harry snapped, hardly able to contain his irritation. Malfoy had somehow known about Voldemort's plan, and while his explanation sounded far more plausible than Harry's, he refused to believe it. "I know what I saw."

"Look," Malfoy said, pressing a forefinger to Harry's chest. "Sirius Black is dead. And I humoured you once out of pity, but you accuse me of rubbish again, and I won't hesitate to hex your arse to next May. You hear me?"

Harry didn't respond, and Malfoy scoffed, turning away. Harry grabbed his wrist, causing his sleeve to fall back, and he stared at the embossed mark on the blond's pale forearm, his blood turning cold at the sight of the familiar pattern of the skull and snake.

Malfoy pushed his sleeve down and pulled his arm away, his lip curling in anger. "You're not the only one that wishes that night never happened, Potter. So stop whining like a baby and get over yourself. I've got bigger problems to deal with."

So saying, he stalked away, leaving Harry wondering if any of it had even been worth it.

* * *

Draco pulled the hood lower down his face, cursing at himself over and over again for deciding to do something so dangerous.

 _I can still leave,_ he thought, willing his legs to move. _They may not even come._

Just as he thought that, however, he heard the sounds of several footsteps and pushed back into the shadows, peeking out to see Potter and his loyal followers looking around.

"He's not here, Harry!" Longbottom exclaimed, and Draco snorted to himself.

 _Of course he isn't because it was a trap, you fools!_

As the self-proclaimed Dumbledore's Army waited for Potter's next command, Draco shifted, deciding that it was time to leave, when something caught his attention. One of the many orbs of prophecies began to glow, and Draco recognised the names on it in an instant. He recollected a hushed conversation he had overheard months ago regarding the Death Eaters' failed attempt to steal an orb containing a prophecy involving the Dark Lord, and in another moment of poor forethought and spontaneity, he reached over to grab it.

His fingers encircled it at the same time as someone else's, and Draco turned to meet wide emerald eyes, his own surprise mirrored in Potter's expression.

"What are you—" Potter began to say, but the hair on the back of Draco's neck tingled, and he shoved the orb and Potter away, whispering, "Run!" before slipping back into the shadows.

He knew they were there even before he heard the _swoosh_ of their robes or his aunt's crazed cackle. Someone stepped up beside him, and he looked up to see his father's cold expression.

"You did well, my boy," Bellatrix whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "The Dark Lord will be pleased."

He wanted to deny his participation in the event, or even his being there, but words evaded him. His father's signal for him to leave didn't persuade his body to move either, and he remained there even after the battle for the possession of the prophecy had begun, moving only when the orbs around him shattered, forcing him to escape out of the Hall of Prophecies.

Draco ran through the winding hallways and hidden chambers of the Ministry, away from the ongoing conflict, berating himself for not only being there when he shouldn't have been but also for being caught red-handed by the Death Eaters. He knew he would suffer the consequences of his stupidity, but he was uncertain if he was capable of handling them.

When he finally skidded to a stop, it was to witness the sight of Sirius Black falling backwards into the Veil, followed by Potter's shouts of anguish as Lupin held him back. Draco shuffled back, ensuring he was out of sight, Bellatrix's maniacal laughter echoing in his ears as the Dark Lord himself arrived a moment later.

Frightened beyond imagination, he hid in the nearest chamber and remained there for a long time, all the while thinking, "What have I done?"

* * *

Despite how difficult performing Occlumency was, Harry was more-or-less getting the hang of it. The book Hermione had procured for him had been a lifesaver, and he had even managed to get some decent sleep the past few nights. He wasn't in a perpetual state of exhaustion, at least, which allowed him to focus his thoughts better, increasing the power of his Occlumency. He would still see visions every now and again, but they weren't as vivid or real as before, and coupled with studying for the OWLs, Harry had managed to keep himself distracted.

That was until he was mid-test and was overcome by a full-blown vision of Sirius being tortured by Voldemort, his screams of pain tearing through Harry's brain and making his ears bleed. Harry pressed his forehead to the cold wood of his desk, trying to get his breathing under control, Sirius' broken and bloody form seared in the back of his eyes, when there was a dull _thud_ and the sound of a girl shrieking.

Alarmed, Harry jerked upright, surprised to see Flitwick kneeling beside Malfoy, who was crumpled on the floor, Parkinson sobbing as she hovered over them. Malfoy slowly pushed himself up and turned, his eyes searching the room until they met Harry's, and some sort of unspoken communication passed between them.

Malfoy's eyes widened and he scratched at his throat, and Harry had moved from his seat and was pulling the blond to his feet before he knew it.

"I'm done," he told Flitwick. "I'll take him to Madam Pomfrey."

The Charms Professor nodded and waved them away, distracted by Parkinson's unintelligible screeches and sobs. Harry tightened his grip on Malfoy's arm and all but dragged him out, his mind foggy and his heart racing.

As soon as they had put some distance between them and the examination hall, the blond shoved Harry away and leant against the wall, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Harry's thought were too muddled from his vision and the confusion of what was happening to think things through, but a niggle in the back of his mind was telling him that Malfoy knew something.

"You saw it too, didn't you?" Harry demanded in a low voice, seeing the way Malfoy kept scratching at his throat, as though tugging at invisible ropes that were choking him.

 _Just like the ones around Sirius' neck in my vision._

Someone yelled Harry's name just then, and he looked over his shoulder to see Ron and Hermione rushing over to them.

"Look," Harry said, turning back to Malfoy, "I don't know if or how you did see it, and if you did, don't tell anybody. I can't guarantee your safety if you do." He may hate Malfoy, but he wasn't letting the blond die on his watch.

Malfoy looked past Harry as Ron and Hermione's footsteps grew louder, before looking back at him and muttering, "I can't decide if you're just stupid or actually suicidal."

Harry frowned. "What?"

"For someone that took the Dark Lord's Killing Curse head-on and lived to tell the tale, you seem a little too willing to waltz straight into his death traps."

"Don't beat around the bush, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

Hermione and Ron had reached them and were standing just behind Harry, and Malfoy looked between the two of them before pushing himself off the wall so his face was inches from Harry's and whispering, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

He shoved past Harry and Ron and sauntered off, leaving Harry to watch his retreating form with conflicted feelings. Had Malfoy just suggested what he had thought he had?

"Harry, are you alright? Was it another vision?" Hermione was asking, and Harry nodded, his head still swirling.

"I think Sirius is in trouble."

"Harry," Hermione said, exchanging a worried glance with Ron, "what if it's a trap?"

Harry stared at the corner that Malfoy had disappeared around, his words still ringing in Harry's ears. "I'm pretty sure it is. But we have to go anyway."

* * *

Draco looked around, ensuring no one had seen him before reaching behind the _Hogwarts: A History_ volumes to pull out a smaller, darker book adorned with silver and crimson writing that read: _A Guide to Advanced Occlumency._

Over the past several weeks, he had been haunted by more visions and nightmares. As time passed, they only got more vivid and real, and after what had happened with Mr Weasley, Draco could no longer write them off as just hallucinations.

He had made a choice the previous time, a choice he was sure he would come to regret sooner than later—especially if his father found a vial of anti-venom missing from his personal collection—and he was certain he would be punished if his actions ever came to light. And the more horrific scenes of the Dark Lord's doings he witnessed, the more frightened for his life he became.

After extended deliberation and consideration, he decided that he was somehow seeing the same visions that Potter was seeing, and he wasn't sure whom he was connected to, Potter or the Dark Lord. Neither option was a viable one, however, which led to his decision to learn Occlumency to keep the visions at bay.

Thus, he was in the library, trying to sneak out the book about Occlumency without arousing suspicion, when he heard voices nearby. Hurriedly stashing the book away, he slipped behind the bookshelf and hid, peering through the crack in the volumes to see who it was.

"What is it?" Weasley's obnoxious voice called, and Draco held his breath as footsteps neared where he was.

"I thought I saw Malfoy," Granger said from directly in front of him, and Draco quickly squatted just before she turned around, covering his mouth with his hands to muffle the sound of his breathing.

She rummaged around on the shelf behind which he was hiding, and just as Draco thought she would leave, she seemed to find the book he had hidden. Biting down a curse, he watched as she looked around, slipped the book under her robes, and walked away, leaving Draco fuming silently to himself.

"Did you just _steal_ a book?" Draco heard Weasley ask as he tried to follow them.

"I'm _borrowing_ it," Granger replied with a huff. "Besides, I only took it because I thought it'd help Harry, especially since he keeps complaining about how terrible an Occlumency teacher Snape is."

Draco stopped short at that, his mouth falling open. If Snape was teaching Potter Occlumency… did that mean Draco's visions would stop?

* * *

Harry sat at Mr Weasley's bedside with Ron and Hermione, patting Hermione's arm every time she sniffed.

Mr Weasley was looking so much better than the last time Harry had seen him, and he was so relieved to see the colour returning to his face. He had overheard hushed conversations regarding the seriousness of Mr Weasley's injuries—how they couldn't control his bleeding or how Nagini's venom dissolved the stitches on his wounds—and everyone had feared for his life.

But they had awoken that morning to a letter from St Mungo's detailing his unexpected recovery overnight, and they had all trooped down to visit him. While the twins were out getting them lunch and Ginny was pacifying a sobbing Mrs Weasley, the trio kept Mr Weasley company, each silent from being lost in his or her own thoughts.

After a time, when Harry's stomach's rumbling grew embarrassingly loud, he offered to go look for Fred and George and exited the room. As he made his way down the corridor, he heard quiet voices whispering around the corner. Pressing himself against the wall and remaining out of sight, Harry eavesdropped on a conversation between Mrs Weasley and Mr Weasley's Healer.

"The blood test revealed the presence of a potent anti-venom," the Healer was saying.

"And you're certain none of your staff administered it?" Mrs Weasley questioned.

"Quite certain, yes. It's the only explainable reason for why your husband's condition suddenly improved overnight when we've been struggling to contain his bleeding for the past week."

"I assure you, if it was one of my children or any of the members of the Order, we wouldn't have waited this long to slip him the antidote."

"Then you don't know who could have done it, either?"

There was a pause, and Mrs Weasley sighed. "The more I think about it, the less likely it seems that it could've been one of us."

The Healer murmured a response Harry didn't catch, and he made his way back to Mr Weasley's room, hunger all but forgotten in the light of what he had just heard. As he reached up to open the door, he caught a flash of silver from the corner of his eyes and spun around, his heart beginning to race. Running around the corner, convinced he had seen Malfoy, he continued down the corridors until he reached a dead end.

With an agitated sigh, he began to make his way back when a familiar voice fell on his ears. Peering around the corner, he spotted Draco Malfoy pacing up and down, muttering to himself. Harry frowned, wondering what he was doing there, but a sudden sound from behind him caused him to look over his shoulder. When he looked back, Malfoy was gone.

Walking to where the blond had been, Harry looked around. Finding nothing, he turned, when a glint caught his eye. Looking behind a potted plant, he spotted a small vial containing greenish liquid, a worn label on it reading: _Anti-Venom (Potent)._

Wondering why Malfoy had hidden it or had it with him in the first place—and why was he even there?—Harry made his way back to Mr Weasley's room, only to find Mrs Weasley and the Healer walking his way. He waited for them, ignoring the fact that they paused in their conversation when they spotted him, and held the vial out.

"Is this what you were looking for?"

The Healer's eyes widened as she took the anti-venom from him, and Mrs Weasley grabbed him by the arm to whisper, "Where did you get that?"

"I found it," Harry muttered, not paying attention to Mrs Weasley's words of gratitude and letting her assume he was the one that administered it, all the while wondering if Malfoy had been the one that had.

* * *

"Did you see Potter's face when—" Draco paused, a sudden, rather violent image flashing through his mind. He blinked, wondering what that was all about, and looked up to see the concern on his friends' faces. "I'm fine," he drawled. "Probably just the aftereffect of drinking the potion too quickly."

As Pansy launched into another one of her boring tales, Draco sat back, trying to recollect what he had seen. He couldn't remember too well, but it had been gory and quite appalling, and he was unsure what would even cause him to think of something like that. Closing his eyes, he settled back in the plush lounge, tuning out Pansy's voice and letting the quiet of the Slytherin common room lull him to sleep.

He was deep in slumber when the image flashed through his mind again, more vivid and animated this time. The edges of the vignette were fuzzy and the colours were all wrong, but he could make out the form of a man lying on the ground, his face and arms bloody, and he lurched closer and farther away, as though being struck by something, his muted screams of pain sending shivers down Draco's spine. He was too paralysed by fear to focus on the man's face, but just as he felt his body startle from sleep, he managed to catch a glimpse of red hair.

Jerking awake, Draco shuddered, looking around in alarm at the empty common room, the dull light from the lake throwing green shadows along the walls and floor and making him feel like he was trapped underwater. He shivered despite the warm blanket someone had draped over him and forced himself to calm down by steadying his breathing.

Once he was sure he could stand without collapsing from the shock, Draco made his way out of the Slytherin Dungeons, the image of the bloody, red-haired man frozen in his mind. He was sure he knew who the wizard was but couldn't seem to place him, still quite frightened from the otherworldly experience.

Before he knew it, he was standing outside the entrance to the Headmaster's office, the stone gargoyles on either side watching him. Someone had just entered because the stairwell was still open, and, taking a deep breath, Draco took the stairs two at a time, his heart thundering in his chest. He reached the office just as Potter and Weasley entered behind McGonagall, and Draco waved his wand, forming a snag in the carpet to keep the door from shutting all the way.

He missed the beginning of their conversation but immediately recognised Potter's narration of someone being attacked from his vision. His mind whirring from the possibilities of the coincidence, Draco stopped listening to what was being said until a single name fell on his ears.

 _Arthur Weasley._

Draco stared down at his hands, trying to make sense of what was being said. His vision was… real? Arthur Weasley had been attacked by the Dark Lord's snake? The Dark Lord… was really back?

He was startled to his senses by footsteps nearing the door and raced down the stairs, turning the corner and remaining hidden as Potter, Weasley and McGonagall exited the stairwell. The professor was telling them to head straight back to bed, but Potter and Weasley were insisting otherwise.

Overcome by the events of the night, Draco turned tail and ran, deciding to pretend none of it had ever happened.

* * *

Harry chanced a glance at the Slytherin table, his anger so intense it could boil over the cauldron in front of him. The little silver I's on their robes further irked him, and add to it the fact that they were brewing Pepperup Potions to cure colds instead of learning how to defend themselves against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he was so close to using an Unforgivable Curse simply to prove a point.

Malfoy laughed at something just then, breaking off in a fit of coughs and sniffles, and Parkinson was all over him in a second, mollycoddling him and treating his cold like it was Dragon Pox. Harry gritted his teeth and turned his attention back to his potion as Snape shot him a glare, withholding his own coughs and sniffles to prove that he was better than Malfoy. But he couldn't hold back an almighty sneeze that overcame him, and sneezed right into his potion, getting snot all over. Unfazed by the looks of disgust that earned and Neville's insistence that they should start over, he continued on, not caring how the potion turned out.

 _It's not like it's going to stop Voldemort anyway._

Suppressing his rage for the rest of the class, he nearly shattered his vial as he tightened the cork, more than ready to get as far away from the pretentious snakes as possible. As they made their way outside, he happened to hear Parkinson placate Malfoy by telling him he would be _all better_ as soon as he drank some of the Pepperup Potion he had brewed.

A sudden, brilliant idea dawned on Harry, and, without a moment's hesitation, he strode up to the group and bumped into Parkinson. She dropped the vial she was holding with a shriek, and Harry quickly reached down to catch it, using the momentary confusion to swap it with his own.

"Sorry about that," he said, trying to look apologetic lest they suspect that something was wrong.

Malfoy snatched the vial from Harry and downed the contents, grimacing as steam shot out of his ears but pretending like it didn't bother him. Harry turned away and walked back to Hermione and Ron, returning their curious expressions with a triumphant grin.

Rubbing his runny nose on his sleeve, he uncorked Malfoy's vial and drank it all, coughing at the sharp taste and laughing as steam came out of his own ears. Despite his hatred for the blond, he was well aware of Malfoy's potion-making capabilities, unlike his own, and was sure his cold would disappear in a few hours.

Malfoy, on the other hand, had a whole other thing coming.

* * *

 **Assignment #10: Woman's History.** **Task: Write about one small action having a butterfly effect.**

 **Also written for the Writing Club.**

 **Showtime: Who Am I? - (plot point) Making a difficult choice**

 **Disney Challenge: The Hyenas - Write about someone turning on their leader. (10 Points if you don't use Snape) (If it wasn't obvious, here it's Draco choosing to save Arthur and warning Harry, which is him going against Voldemort)**

 **Lyric Alley: 6.** **And I heard your voice**

 **Ami's Audio Admirations:** **Mind Control - (plot) People can communicate telepathically [Bonus]**

 **Sophie's Shelf: a) Write about someone who isn't safe.**

 **Emy's Emporium: Empress Chabi - write about someone with secret power**

 **Also written for the insane house challenge. Character: Draco Malfoy**


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